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ph_logs2024-08-10 07:04 pm
blindwatchersees) wrote in ph_logs2024-08-10 07:04 pm
Mockingbird, Mockingbird, Mockingbird
Who: Sheogorath, SQQ, Tarantulas, Jeff, Shouji, and you!
What: Assorted 'meetings of madness' across the island
When: Over the course of August
Where: Various
Warnings: Heavy discussions of identity, possibly discussion of fugue states, possible mentions of violence, unreality
Is that a sound you've heard? [Closed w/ SQQ]
It's as Shen Qingqiu is seeking solitude in the temple that he's visited by a strange sensation. It starts as a physical one, the faintest breeze dancing around the tip of one ear, but then it becomes a song- the erhu part of the Butterfly Lovers begins to play. The sound seems to tug at the end of his sleeve, the way that a narrative piece often seems to pull the listener along with it. Gently, gently, it implores him towards the door, and out into the daylight.
Is that a song you know? [Closed w/ Jeff]
At this point, Jeff's been given a good idea of what to look for when trying to identify Sheogorath. Of course, no one's account of the man is exactly the same, but there seem to be some common elements. He has a beard, and a walking stick, and his eyes are all sort of colors but always strange and piercing.
In the late afternoon, Jeff spots a man who is almost certainly Sheogorath, heading into the woods alone.
Perhaps he ought to follow, and try to catch up to the fellow?
One that was layered with the crackle of a radio? [Closed w/ Shouji]
It's getting late, about the time that businesses are starting to shutter for the evening, when that strange old man who fought off the Tristitia with Shouji a little while ago wanders into the Burger King, his cane making a soft tap tap tapping sound on the floor. He walks up to the counter, and stands there, not making a sound, as he looks around the place, a placid smile plastered across his face. He clearly wants something, but what?
What makes him call in the pouring rain? [w/ Tarantulas]
It's raining.
The drops are big and heavy, and they make a noticeable tapping sound against the window panes. Every so often, a gust of wind will rattle the glass. In the distance, there's a long, low rumble of thunder.
As Tarantulas works on whatever it is he's working on, his auditory sensors suddenly pick up on the sound of purring. Should he take a look around, he's likely to notice a large, gray cat in a little vest, perched atop a nearby shelf. It's staring at him with a familiar pair of eyes, their pupils fractal and ever transforming at their edges.
Is it a song of pride or an alarm of pain? [wildcard]
Anything you've been itching to say, or do, or think with the Madgod? Go crazy!
What: Assorted 'meetings of madness' across the island
When: Over the course of August
Where: Various
Warnings: Heavy discussions of identity, possibly discussion of fugue states, possible mentions of violence, unreality
Is that a sound you've heard? [Closed w/ SQQ]
It's as Shen Qingqiu is seeking solitude in the temple that he's visited by a strange sensation. It starts as a physical one, the faintest breeze dancing around the tip of one ear, but then it becomes a song- the erhu part of the Butterfly Lovers begins to play. The sound seems to tug at the end of his sleeve, the way that a narrative piece often seems to pull the listener along with it. Gently, gently, it implores him towards the door, and out into the daylight.
Is that a song you know? [Closed w/ Jeff]
At this point, Jeff's been given a good idea of what to look for when trying to identify Sheogorath. Of course, no one's account of the man is exactly the same, but there seem to be some common elements. He has a beard, and a walking stick, and his eyes are all sort of colors but always strange and piercing.
In the late afternoon, Jeff spots a man who is almost certainly Sheogorath, heading into the woods alone.
Perhaps he ought to follow, and try to catch up to the fellow?
One that was layered with the crackle of a radio? [Closed w/ Shouji]
It's getting late, about the time that businesses are starting to shutter for the evening, when that strange old man who fought off the Tristitia with Shouji a little while ago wanders into the Burger King, his cane making a soft tap tap tapping sound on the floor. He walks up to the counter, and stands there, not making a sound, as he looks around the place, a placid smile plastered across his face. He clearly wants something, but what?
What makes him call in the pouring rain? [w/ Tarantulas]
It's raining.
The drops are big and heavy, and they make a noticeable tapping sound against the window panes. Every so often, a gust of wind will rattle the glass. In the distance, there's a long, low rumble of thunder.
As Tarantulas works on whatever it is he's working on, his auditory sensors suddenly pick up on the sound of purring. Should he take a look around, he's likely to notice a large, gray cat in a little vest, perched atop a nearby shelf. It's staring at him with a familiar pair of eyes, their pupils fractal and ever transforming at their edges.
Is it a song of pride or an alarm of pain? [wildcard]
Anything you've been itching to say, or do, or think with the Madgod? Go crazy!
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Are they even talking about the same thing? He's not sure. But he knows which of the things he's done weighs the heaviest on his own mind.
cw: references to suicide
Would you fling yourself into the grave in grief of a lost love? Is that something you would struggle with, or would you barely hesitate?
cw: discussion of suicide ideation
"It's not," he says quietly. "It's not easy at all. I..." He laughs quietly. The sound is bitter.
"I thought about it, you know? Just...a couple times. Killing myself before the Abyss opened, so there'd be nobody to push Binghe inside. But then I thought...the System brought me here to replace the original goods, didn't it? Who's to say it wouldn't just replace me with someone else? But then I also thought, well. At least it wouldn't be me, but...the truth is, I just didn't want to die. Isn't that awful? I really sat down and decided that torturing a poor boy I was responsible for, who'd never done anything bad to anyone, was better than taking myself out of the picture."
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“Once, there was a mer who thought so little of himself and the world, that through his trials learned his heart was full of love. And for a little while, he was content, through the inevitable damnation of his soul hung heavy over his head. A god came to him, and asked a favor of him: to care for its people. To torture them when they were foolish, to punish them when they were unmindful… and to love them in their imperfections. But to do that, the mer would have to disappear.”
“He accepted this, and became the scoundrel, the trickster, the tester, the Fourth Corner of the House of Troubles. He wept, he screamed, he ripped his clothes asunder and tore at himself. Still, he did not flee the person he had become, because the works he would allow by being a place for his people was so much greater than the ills his nature would cause him to inflict. At least, so he had to hope.”
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He raises one of his hands, palm open. Hoping for one of those butterflies to alight and permit him a closer look. "You're beautiful," he sighs.
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And indeed, a butterfly does land on Shen Qingqiu's hand, soft as a song.
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He frowns slightly. He doesn't want to be bitter, it wouldn't do any good, but..."At least you had the chance to help people. I just made everything worse."
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He sighs wistfully. "He was so mad once he figured it out..."
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